


Experiment

by squidmemesinc



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Other, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, if thats an issue for you then steer clear, im not going to admit to a foot thing yet but feet are touched here so like, its about the wheels i promise, listen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11463810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidmemesinc/pseuds/squidmemesinc
Summary: If fliers are known for having sensitive wings, then the erogenous zones of ground-based alt-modes should be…what?





	Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN. 
> 
> I don't have a foot thing, I just love their little wheelie peets. Also, Rodimus has hooves and that is super cute. Also don't ask about this ship because I convinced myself that I like it and I don't even remember why, but hey, look, it's cute.

If fliers are known for having sensitive wings, then the erogenous zones of ground-based alt-modes should be…what?

Brainstorm is jolted out of a deep recharge, suddenly pondering this question. Rodimus’ arm is slung over his waist, and Rodimus is definitely _out_. Brainstorm realizes he’s misplaced his mask, but that’s probably okay for now. He can find it later.

He wriggles around, attempted to execute the complicated maneuver of turning around to face Rodimus without hitting him in the face with his wings or waking him up. Rodimus is so heavily in the throes of stasis that he doesn’t wake up even with the considerable amount of noise Brainstorm makes for all his measures taken to be quiet, such as moving very slowly and awkwardly and praying intensely in his head.

It’s gotta be the wheels, right? The tires, especially. It’s weird how the wings take so much of the force of flying, dragging against the air, almost to the point of becoming calloused, but the right touch can make a flier melt. Brainstorm wonders if it’s the same for Rodimus. No one ever talks about it.

He lies still, watching Rodimus’ sleeping face, tracing a hand gently along his cheek. Rodimus’ nose twitches just slightly, but he remains in stasis. Tentatively, Brainstorm reaches around to where Rodimus’ arm is still draped over his side. He runs his fingers along Rodimus’ elbow, then carefully onto the rubber of the tires in his forearms. He traces between the treads, letting the tire spin slightly when he moves between them to what he expects is the most sensitive part.

The reaction is disappointing, which is to say, there is no reaction. As a scientist, though, Brainstorm won’t be satisfied without further trials. He stays where he is a second, watching Rodimus to see if there’s any kind of delayed reaction as he idly plays with the tires in his arm, but Rodimus is still unresponsive.

Brainstorm sneaks off the berth, out from under Rodimus’ arm, which he gently folds against Rodimus’ chest. Rodimus curls it in a little against his other arm, which is pillowing his head, and damn if he doesn’t look extremely cute. This really is a very special privilege, Brainstorm thinks, to be able to see the captain like this. A special privilege Perceptor surely hasn’t gotten. Ha.

He should, by all means, be tired, and possibly a little worried about inciting some kind of punishment for rousing Rodimus from stasis, but this is the only time he can imagine Rodimus might let him explore his frame in such a way, and test his theory about the sensitive spots, see how he responds.

The captain’s pedes are splayed at an angle from each other, though stacked with the right one more accessible than the left. Brainstorm hovers near the edge of the berth, feeling a bit of a thrill, as he always does when he touches Rodimus, but perhaps a bit more now that he feels like he’s only slightly allowed. He was invited to stay here, but it was to recharge after a really vigorous round of interfacing, not to conduct experiments. In fact, that _might_ have been explicitly forbidden. Brainstorm definitely can’t remember that being said, and definitely isn’t deleting any memory files of Rodimus saying that a few hours ago.

He braces one hand gently against the side of Rodimus’ pede, again eliciting no response. Perhaps it would behoove Rodimus to be a little less of a deep sleeper...but at the same time, he has quite a few captain-ly duties to process and file back in memory, so maybe he’s earned it.

He traces across the dips and bumps of the treads this time, letting his fingers tick across them, and Rodimus’ whole leg twitches just a bit. Excellent, yes! Brainstorm dips his thumb in between a few, using the rest of his hand to brace against the rest of the tire to keep it from spinning. He wedges it in, stroking along the rubber, and this time Rodimus nearly _kicks_ at him.

And—oh, uh oh. He’s stirring. The tell-tale sign of blue appears as his optics flicker online. Rodimus rolls onto his back groggily and doesn’t seem to notice Brainstorm is clinging to his pede until he can’t quite move it. Rodimus fixes him with a blank stare, which could easily turn withering if perhaps he weren’t so befuddled, so Brainstorm releases him and leans casually against the edge of the berth.

“Hey,” he tries.

“What are you doing?” Rodimus asks. He sounds pretty tired. He doesn’t turn on the lights, but continues to try to get a read on Brainstorm in the dark, apparently unsuccessfully.

Brainstorm wishes he remembered where he’d put his mask. “I, er, couldn’t sleep.”

“Were you touching my feet?”

“What? No.” He pauses for a second. “Yes. Yes, I was.”

Rodimus sits up slightly, crooking his knees and scooting closer to Brainstorm to better fix him with his withering stare. “I told you at least six times, if you want to stay in here with me while I’m asleep, you _also_ have to be asleep. Stop trying to give me upgrades. I don’t need surface-to-air missile launchers in my heels, I’m not some kind of...Seeker. I can’t believe _I_ of all people have to be telling someone to stop being so ostentatious.”

Brainstorm finds himself leaning into the berth a bit more towards Rodimus, perched conveniently between his spread knees so he has a perfect view of his face. He’s a little entranced by Rodimus’ beauty, as always, even though it’s currently being directed quite sternly towards him. He should probably pay attention, but… He finds himself leaning in to kiss him.

Unfortunately for Rodimus, he also can’t resist a kiss when it’s offered to him. He leans up against Brainstorm, letting his glossa slide into his mouth and tangle with his own for a moment, chasing soft, sculpted lips for a few little pecks before he focuses again. “Did you hear me?” Rodimus demands.

Brainstorm draws in a vent and moves his hands to the exhaust pipes on Rodimus’ shins, slowly sneaking around towards his tires again as he speaks. “Sort of. I promise I wasn’t making any modifications. Just...testing something.” He gives each tire a quick, hard spin, letting his fingers flick off them in a brief motion. And he gets kicked right in a supporting hip joint.

Brainstorm collapses, but catches himself on the edge of the berth. He stands back up, grinning despite the sensory warnings complaining of a potential hydraulic breach.

“Frag, I—Sorry, but what was that for?” Rodimus has tucked his pedes back in closer to his body, but Brainstorm reaches for the tips of them, resting them on the curved portion of Rodimus’ outer toes.

Rodimus regards him with skepticism. It’s a look Brainstorm is rather used to getting. “I mean, you know, fliers have that thing about wings, being sensitive. I thought it could be the same for you.”

“That’s not a thing,” the captain says a bit sulkily, watching Brainstorm’s hands. “Mine just happen to be, but you see what happens.”

“I’m not worried. C’mon, Rodders, lemme see.” He tugs at the bottom of Rodimus’ heel, and after a moment of stern internal debate, Rodimus lets it slide forward.

Brainstorm braces one hand against Rodimus’ toes, pinning his foot to the table, and reaches around, stroking along the rim of the tire again.

Rodimus shivers slightly and Brainstorm can feel his leg twitch under his hand. “Hey, come on, that tickles,” he says, trying to tug his foot back halfheartedly and ending up ultimately unsuccessful.

“Please, Rodimus, this is for science.” Brainstorm can’t help feeling a little smug that Rodimus is letting him play with him like this, which almost definitely shows on his face. He’s really not used to not wearing the mask. Rodimus narrows his optics at him, but immediately gasps when the scientist pushes his fingers in under his plating and spins his wheel gently again. Brainstorm feels sparks arcing off his field to nip at his fingers, warning, but with a hotter edge of enjoyment to them. Rodimus wriggles slightly, looking embarrassed and slightly flustered. “Enjoying yourself?” the scientist purrs at him.

“Quit being smug. I’m telling you, it tickles. I can’t believe I’m letting you even do this…”

“Is that Rodimus-speak for ‘Ooh, Brainstorm, touch me more, play with my sensitive little w—”

Rodimus does actively kick at him now, intentionally, with his other foot. He gets Brainstorm in the stomach and Brainstorm reflexively clutches at the impact, and then quickly scrambles to get a hold on Rodimus’ other foot before he can pull back. “You cried the last time I touched your wings,” Rodimus points out. “You cried, and then you overloaded seven seconds later.” He’s scowling slightly as Brainstorm flits his fingers along this pede as well.

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Brainstorm says distractedly. “I’m extremely put together in sensitive situations. Unlike some people I know.” Rodimus has more intricate pedes than most bots. He wonders what other parts would get him a fun reaction…

“That sounds exactly like you. It was you. It was you three hours ag _gfrag_ what— Hnn, _ohh…_ ” Rodimus pants as Brainstorm slips his fingers in between his toes and spreads them apart, straining the flexible springs and dipping along the protective mesh between the joints connecting each of them to the middle plate. He’s twisting and squirming at the gentle sensations of touch in between his toes, this part of him that probably _never_ gets touched, and yes, this is exactly what Brainstorm wanted.

Rodimus is making very soft sounds as he moves around on the berth. He keeps trying to yank his foot back, but the efforts are half-hearted as he clearly can’t decide if he wants this attention or not, else Brainstorm probably wouldn’t be able to hold him here. “ _Ah_ … What do you... What are you even trying to do?” Rodimus asks, gripping at the edges of the berth and gazing up at Brainstorm a little helplessly.

Good question. He’s gotten a little distracted. His original theory, of course, was that fliers are to wings as speedsters are to wheels, which Rodimus claims isn’t quite true, but he’ll shelve that for later testing, maybe when Rodimus isn’t around. However, now, with Rodimus spread out a little wantonly before him… Bracing Rodimus’ pede against his shoulder, he tugs his hips forward towards the edge of the berth, bringing Rodimus near flush against him. “Mostly just seeing how far you’ll let me get, at this point.” He holds Rodimus’ thigh sturdy and runs along his hip joint now.

“Pervert,” Rodimus says, though he’s smiling now. Brainstorm can feel the heat coming off his panels even before his fingers trace over them, nearly bitten when they snap back to expose his ready equipment.

Brainstorm leans his cheek against the side of Rodimus’ ankle and lets his spike pressurize, murmuring a soundless _Thank you_ before he realizes Rodimus can see his face. He bites his lip as Rodimus laughs at him and ducks his head, instead choosing to focus away from his face as he thumbs briefly across Rodimus’ node, making a small noise when his valve quivers and tenses around nothing. His lips are shining slightly with lubricant, and look soft and inviting. Brainstorm can’t bring himself to draw this out any longer after that, lining up the head of his spike and pressing into him.

This time he feels Rodimus’ calipers squeezing up and down his length, feels Rodimus slide himself even closer to him on the berth, and the shake of his leg bent against him, opening him up so Brainstorm can press deep inside him. Their moans come at the same time, ringing out a soft synchronicity, a very subtle harmonizing of pleasure. Brainstorm thrusts his hips back and forward again into Rodimus, gripping his leg and wrapping it around him as he leans down over him, pressing his thigh even further up towards his chest.

Rodimus shouts and his valve squeezes around Brainstorm’s spike again. “Oh, Rodders, you feel _so_ nice…” He keeps himself braced against Rodimus’ leg on his shoulder, balancing his weight over his hip so he can pull Rodimus around him and drill into him.

“Ah, _frag_ , you better hold out this time, you _umnn...nng, haa_ …” Rodimus throws his head back on the berth, pinning his spoiler and his arms against it so he can lift his hips and frag himself back against Brainstorm’s spike. They both yell again when their frantic pace jams Brainstorm against Rodimus’ ceiling node, making his valve ripple tighter for a long, blessed moment.

Brainstorm adjusts his grip, jostling Rodimus into a firmer position of leverage against him, and grits his denta. “Roddy...Rodimus…” He’s answered with a pant of his own name that sends shivers straight to his spark. Brainstorm redoubles his efforts, losing the stability of the pace but hoping he makes up for it with vigor. Rodimus’ noises are getting louder and more frequent as he approaches overload, and his valve gets slicker and tighter with every thrust.

Rodimus’ heel slips forward off Brainstorm’s shoulder, buffeting his wheel back and forth over Brainstorm’s wings as the treads land on the thin line of his engineering and he’s shaken by their thrusting. The sharp tingling shoots pleasure through his systems, settling in his interface equipment. Brainstorm groans, bucking against Rodimus enough that he hears the berth squeak over the clanging of their plating. Rodimus slides his foot forward, tugging Brainstorm closer down to him and slamming back against the other bot. They overload simultaneously, tangled in each other, frames seizing as powerful shocks run through them, fueling a long ramp-down to stop.

The collapse comes soon after. Brainstorm indulges the almost painful tingle of Rodimus’ rubber pressing against a large, flat portion of his wing before he squirms away from the excessive post-coital stimulation, sliding up over Rodimus to get back on the berth. Their fans are both spinning at the highest setting, but Rodimus still wraps him in a hot-vented kiss. Their lips are searing together, and the hot mingling of their venting leaves the air around feeling cold when they break apart again.

Slowly, their systems reset to normal. Brainstorm gradually realizes Rodimus has offlined his optics again and pulled in closer to him. “No more experiments,” he says quietly, perhaps feeling Brainstorm watching him. “Captain’s orders.” Rodimus has his arm slung over him just like he had before, and Brainstorm rests his hand on his captain’s waist.

Brainstorm smiles gently and offlines his optics as well. “You got it, boss.” He gently flicking his thumb under the treads of the tires in Rodimus’ arm, passing it off as an accidental shift and feeling very satisfied when Rodimus' arm twitches.


End file.
